Marise said nothing, but looked suddenly as mulish as a beautiful girl can look. She had been wondering whether or no to confide in Mums what was in her mind, and see what Mums would say and think about it. But on the instant she decided "_No_." She _knew_ beforehand what Mums would think and say. Everything would be from Tony's point of view. Mums was obsessed with the wonder and majesty and glory of the great--soon to be the rich--Lord Severance! The news should be sprung on Mums at the last moment, when everything was "fixed up." Meanwhile, Zélie was snatching a few words with Garth--not the words she wanted personally to speak, but as nearly those as she dared. "Jack Garth!" she whispered, "Miss Sorel told me just now you and she are going to be _married_. She wasn't _joking_?" "I hope not," said Garth steadily, "because I'd be--rather cut up if I thought it was a joke." "Listen, Jack," Zélie hurried on. "We're pals--we've been pals for a long time. I _want_ you to be happy. I'd do a whole lot to make you happy. So you've just _got_ to forgive me if I say.... _Do_ you know what you're doing? _Can_ you be happy? That girl--I mean, Miss Sorel--doesn't love you any more than she does me. And that isn't a _little_ bit!" "I love her," said Garth. "I don't care a damn whether I'm happy or not." "Oh! Then it's all right. Of course, I _suppose_ you know your own business. Still--Jack--I can't help feeling there's something queer--some sort of mystery. Don't let yourself be deceived." "I'm not being deceived." "I hope not, I'm sure. But--oh, _do_ forgive me!--it's Lord Severance she loves." "Then the sooner she unloves him the better it will be all around." "I know you think I'm a meddler. But remember we're friends. Remember Mothereen told me to be your friend, Jack. Those two Sorel women think Severance the perfect beau ideal of a man. They look upon you--oh, I can't say it!" "You needn't," Garth drily assured her; "I'm a cad; a bounder; a lout." "The _beasts_! I hate them both!" Zélie gasped. "They're not worthy to black your boots." "I mostly wear brown ones," said Garth. "You're right to snub me. I won't say any more. You must go your own way, and I hope--I hope with all my heart" (Zélie choked a little) "you'll never regret it. But just this _one_ thing let me beg you to do. Whatever they're up to, don't give them the chance to despise you. I mean, in little things. They _can't_ in big! I saw the way they looked at--at your clothes Sunday afternoon, Jack. I could have _thrown_ something at them!--not the clothes, but the Sorels--and Severance, the conceited Greek snob! But the clothes _weren't_ right, boy. They didn't do you justice. They had a sort of 'Sunday-go-to-meeting' look: kind of _smug_! And your gloves and shoes _just_ the wrong yellow! For heaven's sake don't lose a minute in going to a good tailor if you don't want your life to be a hell!"